Keeping the home fires burning
by Roo1965
Summary: Jack's just trying to think warm thoughts. set after Solitudes, minor spolier for Cold Lazarus. ficlet for drabble phrase 'put another log on the fire'. feb 2007.


authors notes

ficlet for drabble word of the week Feb 2-"throw another log on the fire"

Spoilers: Solitudes, tiny for Cold Lazarus.

Season: one

Summary: Jack's just trying to think warm thoughts….

P.S I had a simple idea and it growed. And -yes another Solitudes ficlet. sigh so sue me…fic is unbeta'd. written 4th Feb 07.

* * *

**Keeping the home fires burning...by Roo **

Jack was comfortable at last, lying on the battered couch in the cabin. Okay, so the weight on his right chest and leg was heavy and shouldn't really ache so damn much. But it meant Sara was with him and that made life perfect.

He should be warm though….he shifted, groaned and mumbled "Sara? Put another log on the fire?"

But she didn't move and he still felt far too cold, he shivered again. "Sara…."

What was wrong? He hadn't felt this cold and horrible since he was a rookie pilot and had had to eject into seawater in a bad storm. Just about shrivelled his bits off and wetter than…well some really wet thing. Four hours in the drink. Hell, if he'd wanted to go to sea he'd have joined the damn navy and be done with it. A big destroyer though not one of those itty bitty submarines…way too small. He shuddered.

The dunk in the drink…ha…ha… had been years ago, so why did it pop up now? Because….? Maybe he felt the same way again? Which meant he'd done something either really stupid or really clever. Sara couldn't possibly be a part of that and still be here with him.

So why was there an elephant on his chest? Not that Sara was an elephant, far from it. She was petite and sassy in all the right spots….Get a hold of yourself Jack, you're rambling.

He tried to move a hand, grab hold of Sara, anything. Someone gently put their hand over his; he was so surprised that he managed to finally crack an eye open.

Brown hair, concerned look. Not Sara. Who the hell? Fast beeps sounded. He made to sit up, but fire erupted in his chest as he coughed roughly and then his leg exploded. Before all the lights shorted out someone shouted for a Colonel. Was that him? He hoped not if it hurt this much.

* * *

This was so not fair. Now he was too warm. Gotta get off the couch and open the cabin door and some windows. Jeez, how many logs did we put on the fire? Wasn't usually a problem. Even if the fire went out, they created their own little fire, if you know what he meant.

Something happened, he dimly recalled. Trying to chase the thought just made him sweat like a pig and get nowhere. Each time he moved something throbbed in a nasty this-is going- to – hurt kind of way.

There were noises and voices but he couldn't make any sense of them. Like he was swimming under water and it was all distorted. Water. Ejecting into the sea. He remembered. Got wet...ha…ha and very cold. Got ill - all hot and cold like this. But the other? Not a clue. Time to call for the Hardy Boys or maybe Columbo… "_Hey, I got one last question_…"

Where the hell am I and how did I get here? What happened? Anyone else hurt?

Throw me a bone here please. Or maybe another log for the fire. I'm cold. Sara?

* * *

Okay, this is better. Less of the elephant, feel warm in an all over cosy kind of way. Leg doesn't seem to have been sawn off after all.

Aaarrggghh?!! What the…? Beeping noises and people yelling! Yeah, okay I know- don't try and turn over on my right side! Think my leg just exploded again. Oww. Dammn frickin'...basta….can't swear 'cause of Charlie…Sara got so mad…..

"Colonel? Can you understand me?"

"Mmmmm?"

"Can you open your eyes for me?"

Not a hope in hell, doc…_Doc!_

"Hey, there you are. You're okay. You contracted a bad chest infection but we got it on the run now. Mind the ribs for a bit, we only took the chest tube out this morning."

"Wha…?"

"Here's some water, sip slowly. Your leg will be fine. It was a nasty break, but with time and rehab you'll be back on SG1."

SG1? SG1! Ice planet, Carter, no exit and the DHD that wouldn't work, 'I'll regret dying...'

"Carter? Where..how..?"

"Sam is doing well. Mild hypothermia – unlike you- and some scrapes and bruising."

"How rescued?"

"Daniel figured it out just in time for both of you. You were on Earth, Antarctica to be exact. Don't give me that look; I'm not making it up!"

"What look?"

"That look, Colonel. Air lifted to MacMurdo base until you were stable enough to bring home and the weather cleared. Then transferred here, Academy Hospital."

It was lot to take in and he was so tired.

"The General and the rest of SG1 would like to see you. I'll let them in for just a second okay?"

He nodded. His team trooped in, their eyes lighting up when they saw he was awake at last.

"Thanks guys."

"I couldn't figure out why the DHD didn't work, now of course I know why...but.."

"Whoa, Carter. Stop. We're both alive. Talk about it later." He held her eyes until she nodded.

Daniel looked like he'd been in the wars- a fading scar on his forehead.

"Good to see you Jack."

"Likewise Daniel, I gather we owe you for figuring it out?"

"Well, yeah. But I took too long! You both nearly…"

"But we didn't! Tell me about it some time."

"Teal'c, how you holding up?"

"I am holding up very well Colonel O'Neill. You look much better today."

"Thanks."

"Okay, guys move out. The General wants a quick word and then the Colonel needs his rest." Doctor Fraiser shooed his team out like a bunch of wayward schoolchildren lingering by their favourite toy in the playground. He closed his eyes for a second.

He opened them again when he realised someone was standing next to his bed. General Hammond stilled his pained efforts to sit up a little.

"Easy, son. Don't undo all that hard work the doctors put in. Doctor Fraiser and the specialists seem confident you'll make a good recovery. How are you, Colonel?"

"Tired. Don't understand why we ended up in Antarctica."

"That's a story for another day. And one I am sure your team will tell you all about. You had us worried there for a while. And there was nothing we could do but wait."

"Look, I'm fine now, you got to us in time."

"I'm not talking about Antarctica as such. You. You were in a critical condition, Jack."

Suddenly he knew where George was heading and why he'd spoken to him after his team had gone.

"You didn't?"

"I had to, Jack. She's still listed as your next of kin…"

Jack gulped and laid there, his leg beginning to fizz with pain as the last meds wore off.

"Jack?"

"It's alright, General you did the right thing." he reassured his boss.

Hammond gently patted his arm and left.

* * *

Jack tried to get comfortable in the bed and brought the Doc and a nurse running when he pulled off a lead by mistake and the machine wailed.

"Why do you do these things, Colonel?!" she huffed and he shrugged back at her. She checked the tubes and machines and the IV bags.

Finally he was as snug as a bug in a rug. Damn but these were good meds, he thought muzzily as the nurse disposed of the syringe she'd just used in his heplock.

"I refilled your water, Colonel. Want anything else? Food?"

He shook his head at the Doc, finding a cool spot on his pillow and closed his eyes and sighed heavily. Images of Sara worried and angry crept up on him. She had a right to know if he was injured; it was just that neither of them dealt with it very well. Especially if this time they'd told her he was dying. Jeez, how did she deal with that news? Would she have been happy or sad?

But he wasn't dead, just a bit busted and she'd seen that before and they'd have kept her informed of his condition. He wondered if she had visited while he was critical and if she'd come now he was awake. And if she did, would they be civil to each other?

He had tried to keep his new job and old life separate. Yeah right, O'Neill. She already hates you for what she thinks is some clone of Charlie, after that blue crystal thing. Damn Hammond -why did he have to tell her? Because she's still listed as your next of kin. Because you can't let go after all this time. You could change it to Daniel or Hammond or Homer Simpson for all you care. Because you still want things to be as they were and never can be.

The drugs surged through him and he let go at last and dreamed of a cosy log cabin and a pretty blonde lady who was his wife who he loved very much and a time before Charlie had been born. The hell with the log pile, they'd made their own fire….

END


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